Winchester Apologetics
by Maygin
Summary: “Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else.” –Madame Pomfrey. A Young Winchesters story from Dean’s POV
1. Chapter 1

**Winchester Apologetics**

**By:** **Maygin**

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. A Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

Warnings: This is not like my other stories. Its dark- well… it's dark for me anyways. Deals with maybe some uncomfortable issues and written from Dean's point of view. And not very well written if you ask me… I don't really think I caught Dean's essence in this story…but I'm posting it anyways because I couldn't just abandon the stupid thing. It literally called to me in the most ungodly hours of the morning; so I gave in – I'm so weak ;) There is cursing w/in the story… sorry – couldn't be helped this time. This is un-beta'd… I couldn't possibly do that to anyone… this is beyond help. So here it is – oh, and this is not a sequel to Heroes, for those of you waiting on that story.

Disclaimer: (begin monotone voice) I'm not making any money off of nor do I own Supernatural. I will however take any donations in the form of story reviews :)

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Prologue**

Sam's my little brother. For those of you who actually have younger siblings, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say that there's nothing you wouldn't do to keep them safe. Yeah, well I practically grew up raising the kid… fed him, changed his diapers, rocked him to sleep. Hell, I was even the one who taught him his ABC's. So when I say that Sam's my little brother, I mean that in the truest sense… I'd do anything for him.

…_anything_.

At first glance you'd think he was the older one right? Yeah- no. I top him by four years, nearly five. …and he tops me by about four inches, (usually feels like more.) Point is- despite Sam's best efforts at normalcy, there is absolutely nothing normal about him. Even his obnoxious 6'4" skyscraper imitation wasn't normal. Most guys hit their growth spurt at what- twelve or thirteen? Maybe even fourteen for those few unfortunates? Yeah, Sam's hit him at sixteen. I mean, that's not to say he just became a basketball coach's dream overnight; he had the normal growth spurt at thirteen just like every other kid in his grade, but at least at that point he was able to keep it at a lovely 5'9". Exactly one inch shorter than me. And then suddenly he turned into Mr. Mistoffelees and pushing 6'4".

All because of those two weeks. Two weeks and two very long hours where Sam's primal, most basic evolutionary psyche switched on, formed a friggin committee and decided a change was needed.

We never talk about it- his height I mean. Annoys the hell outta me and yeah, I come up with some amazing jokes and comments about it too. But we don't talk about it. Just like we don't talk about how Sam went from this cute, trusting, giggling- and yes he totally giggled up until 16- annoying I-have-to-hug-and-love-on-_everyone_ kid to the tall, brooding ball of emotional Mr. Serious that we all know and love today.

Two weeks and Sam makes his first dive into the pool of unnatural occurrences. Sam is in the truest sense, _Supernatural_. And not just because of all this vision crap he's been having lately and the demon. …but because of a period of fourteen days and two hours where I lost sight of him, literally and figuratively; and he had to find some way to cope with the damage. And that's exactly what happened, at the tender age of sixteen, Sam's psyche was damaged. And there wasn't a damned thing I could do to make it better. So Sam made himself better.

Sort of.

He never really got over _that_… I actually have no clue how someone _would_, but Sam- the amazingly stubborn son-of-a-bitch that he is somehow managed to at least crawl under it. Problem is… he's been crawling ever since.

**Chapter 1**

So I'm twenty years old and helping dad now full-time with the Winchester family business, and Sammy's halfway through his first semester of his freshman year in high school. And yes, he was still a little geek then too… I think that little piece of him was permanently ingrained in his DNA at conception- Samuel Winchester, Geek-4-Life. And still a beautiful-whopping inch shorter than me. We'd been hanging around Seattle, Washington for while because God knows there's enough weird things going down in Seattle to fulfill a hunter's dream for a lifetime. Dad said it had something to do with the gravitational pull on the fundamental forces were off by .006815 protons at those coordinates and all the rain that combined made for a nice little niche for a lot of bad, nasty creatures… personally I think he was totally putting me on; number one- because he didn't look me in the eye the entire time he went into Yoda mode, and number two- because Sammy was trying very hard not to smile or look my way. The little snot just buried his face behind his school book which shook slightly from his horribly failed attempt at not laughing.

Either way, we had enough jobs to fill up mine and Dad's schedule for several months at _least_. Which of course made the professor happy; he'd get to stay in one school for at least a whole semester, maybe an entire year. I tried my best to keep a neutral expression when Dad announced that lovely bit of news to us, but Sam just got this huge smile on his face… you know the ones that don't just light up a room, but practically erase all past crap lingering in your psyche that you can't help but fall into their enthusiasm? Yeah that one.

…I really miss that one.

So Washington… yeah, rain. Lots and lots of rain; cold November rain at that. I even had to use some of my hard-earned hustling money to invest in an umbrella. Me! How many guys my age do you see walking around with an umbrella and still look sex-worthy… not to mention try holding an umbrella in one hand and a double-barrel shotgun in the other. Sam actually had the gall to call me Slayer Poppins one morning; he carried a lovely bruise on his arm for the rest of the week. So here we were; mid-November and in the middle of investigating the death of some guy, well- kid really, that no-one seems to remember. But hey, his body showed up and he's in the school yearbook and has lived in this town his entire life so now it's a huge fiasco to find out who this John Doe (only not) really is. His parents who were the number one suspects and under constant surveillance claimed he was a _shy boy_ that didn't really leave his room that much except to go to school. Pair of idiots if you ask me.

Only a few people ended up showing to the kid's funeral so we didn't have much to go on. Conveniently enough, Sam was attending the same school the dead kid had gone to; which gave us a perfect excuse to be there and even better- an inside man; reluctant as he may have been. Sam's kind of one of those goody-two-shoes, doesn't like to lie or put on a front type people; which in our business as you can imagine doesn't mingle too well. But Sam's not stupid, he'd never compromise our family or lifestyle… but he never had any issues letting us know how much he hated doing it… the lying that is. Fortunately though it was few and far between the more he came to accept that what we did was a good thing. I guess having someone profusely thank you for saving their life tends to change your outlook a little.

So Sam took on the job of inside man with little grumbling and got the benefits of staying after school under the guise of extra-curricular activities. And believe me, it _was_ a _guise_; Sam may be an obsessive little freak when it comes to anything academic, but a Mudder he was not. Mudder of course being the catchy name for the group of emotional vagabond dorks that can apparently only express themselves by digging their fingers into a bunch of clay, setting it on fire and making something atrociously useless... not to mention it was the only thing Ryan Filche, (God rest his soul and his horrific last name) the dead kid, had shown interest in other than his own bedroom. Fortunately for my little brother, because of a timing issue, the Mudders met an hour _after_ school normally let out… which meant free library time for him.

The first few weeks of investigation produced absolute diddly-squat. And as Dad has real issues with diddly-squat, we eventually tossed the case into our 'unexplainable' file which was extremely thin by the way, and took on a more pressing case involving a tree that's been recorded to have been hit by lightening at least eleven times in the last three months and yet hasn't a scratch on it… the people standing next to it at the time it's hit however is another story.

So Dad and I started investigating the tree deal and Sam continued his freshman year of high school. It was late one night that we had come home from a stake-out, and per usual- it had rained the entire time. So being cold and soaked to the bone, coming home to a warm apartment was like heaven. Oh, and did I mention that it was an empty apartment? Meaning, where the hell was Sam?! It was well past ten-o'clock and it was a school night. He should've been sitting on the couch in his p.j.'s with his books strewn all over the place and dinner on the table. No p.j.'s, no books, no hamburger helper… and no Sam!

Wouldn't you know it; the little snot came stumbling through the door not two seconds after my revelation that there was a definite lack of hamburger helper. He literally stumbled through the doorway, his book bag flying from his shoulder and books exploding across the front hall; Sam just barely kept himself upright and gave us this stunned look like he'd been caught with his pants down. Did I mention he was sopping wet and shivering from the cold. He just as well could have been shivering from the look Dad had sent him.

"Where the hell have _you_ been?" Were the first loving words out of my father's mouth.

"I- uh, well- um," Was the delinquents intelligent response.

Dad, the looming figure he is, (remember Sam's still only 5'9" at this point) lumbered up to him all intimidating and reached past him to shut the door. Fortunately, Dad's not the absolute monster Sam sometimes makes him out to be, so he grabbed towels for all three of us and then started throwing together the beautiful hamburger helper while Sam and I dutifully sat down at the kitchen table throwing questioning glances at each other.

Fifteen silent minutes later Dad delivers the heavenly dinner and we all, well me mostly, start digging in. Dad gives his youngest a good once over, patiently waiting for his access to the pot of food while Sam does his best impression of melting into his chair.

"Sam," Dad finally spoke; taking the spoon from me, he scooped some food onto Sam's plate and then onto his own. "You wanna tell me where you've been the past five hours?"

It may have sounded like a calm question, but John Winchester doesn't ask questions, he makes demands. And as his off-spring we are well versed in the ways of Winchester communication.

Sam meekly picked up his spoon and just held it, as if it offered some type of emotional support or something. I swear the kid needs to get out more. He seemed to finally find the courage to look Dad in the eyes and started his explanation. "I thought maybe since you and Dean had moved on to this other case that, well… since I'm still going to the same school and all, I mean- what would it hurt for me to continue the investigation on Ryan's death right? I mean… I just go to the stupid club afterwards and keep seeing if I can get the other students to talk or maybe-"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa," Dad held up his hand, "you're still doing what?"

Sam's shoulders had dropped at that point. "It's not for me Dad, I just thought I could maybe keep trying to figure this one out while you two finish this other case."

"And when were you going to tell me about this?" Ah, the clincher.

"Well…" at least Sam had the intelligence to look guilty, "the thought to keep going didn't even occur to me until this afternoon when classes had almost finished. I tried calling your cell but I kept getting a voicemail."

Dad nodded, "We were in a park; there wasn't any reception."

It was at that point that my stomach had been satisfied that I _was_ actually feeding it and that more would be on the way that it allowed my brain to take over once more. "Wait a second; when you joined the Mudders," it always takes a lot of restraint for me not to laugh whenever I refer to them, "Dad or I had to start picking you up. How the hell did you get home tonight?"

Obviously I had hit a sore spot because Sam ran his hand over his face and had started kneading his forehead. "I uh… I took the bus."

"They have a school bus that runs that late?" Dad had asked doubtfully.

"Not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Again with the question slash demand.

I pride myself on the fact that I've always been awesome at reading my little brother and that time it just clicked into place. "You took a city bus?"

"Several of them actually."

Wrong answer Sammy… so very wrong answer. Dad's eyes totally bugged and he dropped his spoon. "You took a city bus?!"

"Several?" It was always my job to keep them on track.

Sam had set his spoon down as well at that point and just tiredly rested his head in his hands. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. But the bus routes are completely insane and indecipherable. I kept having to jump onto another one to get anywhere near here. Finally I just gave up, grabbed a map and ran home. Which ended up not being too far. I'm sorry I'm late and that I didn't let you know beforehand."

There's a reason I love my father so much; any normal parent would have gone off the deep end hearing their youngest son took a little voyeur trip around town on the city buses and then proceeded to run home in the pouring, cold rain, again- in the _city_ at _night_. But not Dad. He just stared at Sam for minute, ran a tired hand over his own face and then reached forward and picked up my brother's spoon and held it out for him. I saw Sam hesitantly glance at it from his shadowed position beneath his hands before he slowly lowered his arms and accepted the silverware.

Dad finished that night's conversations with yet another demand as he started paying attention to his food. "Dean or I will start picking you up afterwards again okay? You can continue investigating if you want, just make sure we know when to pick you up alright?"

Sam had given a small nod followed by an almost missed smile before he too turned his attention to his plate.

I love Hamburger Helper.

**TBC...**

Thoughts? Anyone remotely interested in where this might be possibly going? It's okay if you're not - the story is already written so I'm posting it no matter what... I just like to hear yerall's thoughts... and yes, 'yerall' is totally a word. It is in Texas anyways ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

Note: Okay… well I'm really glad to hear this isn't too painful!! I've never written a first person point of view looking back (at least not that I can remember)… so it was really difficult for me to keep it in the present tense and yet still tell the story of yesteryear. I can't tell you how many times I had to change sentences to match the correct tense. So there's a good chance I might've botched it up a few times. Okay, enough talking from me. Thanks for reading!!

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 2**

So the next day, what was it- Thursday? The sun had actually decided to grace us with its presence. So Dad and I were going to go back to the lightening tree that morning and see what we could dig up… literally. Sam had already left for school by the time I had come lumbering downstairs which meant I had no one to annoy; Dad is simply not an option- I value my life too much for that. We were in the middle of carefully removing a sample of the tree's epidermis; in other words: we were ripping a huge piece of bark off with our bare hands, when my cell phone decided to latch onto the nearest signal and chime in.

I left Dad to continue trying to get what is quite possibly the toughest bark I've ever had the displeasure of tearing, off. I had flipped the phone open and despite the tree, was in a generally good mood. "How can Dean please you today?"

"Dean?" I'd know that voice anywhere.

"What's the matter, forget your lunch money?" It was funny at the time.

"No, um actually," I also know _that_ tone; it's the tone of voice Sam gets when he's about to ask for something that he wants me to run interference with on Dad. "I was wondering if it would be okay if I brought a friend home tonight?"

"Like a _girl_friend?" I had meant to sound sly but I think it might have come out a bit more surprised. I know Sam's sixteen and all but we aren't typically in one place long enough for him to actually pursue the ladies. And Sammy simply does not participate in casual dating; he seems to like that whole relationship deal. Either way, I almost dropped the phone when I heard his response.

"No, like a guy friend."

"What?" I had yelled (it might have been a squeak) when I'd finally gotten the phone back to my ear.

At least Sam had laughed at that point which clued me in to how stupid I was. "We're working on a project for Ancient History and I figured Dad wouldn't want me to go over to _his_ place, sooo…"

"Yeah, I don't think that'll be a problem. You need a ride?"

"No, Jacen's got a car."

"Does he have a license?"

"Are you serious?" I wasn't really, but as I'd missed out on my morning pestering of the little one I figured I could have my fun now. Sam had sighed at that point; you know which one? The sigh that basically says_ I'm putting up with you because you're blood. _"Yes Dean, he has a license."

"Alright I'll let Dad know. Keep your phone on in case he freaks out though." I'd said that last part as a whisper of course before closing my phone because Dad had just fallen on his ass trying to pull the bark off unsuccessfully and was now pulling a huge axe out of the trunk of the car with deadly intent in his eyes.

Later that night when Dad and I had finally gotten home, with only a very small piece of stupid bark we found Sam and his friend already deeply involved in their little project. Sometime in between his studying Sam had still managed to throw one of those lovely pre-made lasagna's into the oven and it smelled awesome. Dad did a quick overview of the living room where the two geeks had their heads buried in their books; I knew what he was really looking for- he was looking to make sure Sam had hid all our 'tools of trade'. He had.

"How's it goin?" I had asked loudly as I let myself fall onto the couch and more or less rudely interrupting them as all big brothers are required to do. I might have also mussed Sam's hair… I seem to recall a withering glare being sent my way.

"It's good." That was from Jacen, Sam's study-buddy. He'd looked like a nice guy… actually he looked a lot like Sam; long-ish brown hair, lanky, he had blue eyes. The only difference other than the blue eyes was he was about two inches taller than Sam. There had been a moments pause where Jacen and I both kinda of waited for Sam to introduce us but surprise, surprise, the little nerd still had his head buried in his book again and was lost to the rest of us. Well, at least until I had kicked my knee forward and knocked him in the head.

"Yeah?" That's another thing about Sammy, anyone else probably would've been pissed if someone knocked their knee into their head, but not my little brother. No, he's actually used to Dad or I having to throw something at him or hit him to get his attention when he's studying. Dad was kind of the same way when he'd get into a hunt though so I guess you can't argue genes.

"Dinner!" Dad's voice had called from the kitchen. We were always such a formal family.

I of course had leapt off the couch and made a bee-line for the kitchen. I'd barely heard Jacen making sure it was okay that he was intruding on our dinner or something like that. And then Sam's comment about _as long as Dean got his food first you'll be okay_. Yeah, pretty sure I had kicked him under the table for that one; little brat.

And overall Jacen was your typical nice guy, and he actually had a sense of humor so he was alright in my book. He and Sam seemed to hit it off really well. Later that night I did my brotherly duty and dug a little deeper.

"So, Sammy has a thing for the blue eyes huh?" Sam had simply rolled his eyes; he was in the middle of brushing his teeth. "It's kind of freaky dude, I mean you're practically dating yourself there."

That comment of course had evoked a response. "Shut up." Actually it wasn't that clear of a response because he still had his toothbrush jammed in his mouth, but we'd been brothers a while at that point so we kind of had the whole communication thing down.

"What? Don't wanna talk about it?"

Sammy rinsed his mouth at that point before looking up at me. "Dude, he's just a friend- would you lay off?"

"Touchy, touchy."

"Jerk."

That was my Sammy; he never really got into cussing all that much until after college. So _jerk _was technically Sammy speak for _bitch_.

"Bitch." I of course have never had an issue with cussing. And in Dean speak, _bitch_ means _bitch_. Just remember that in Winchester terms, these are all endearing nick names. "Seriously though, how do you know him?"

"I told you, we're in the same class together and got paired up to do this stupid project."

Now _that_ caused me to pause; _Sammy _finding a school project _stupid_? What was the world coming to? He had realized I was staring at him though and paused himself.

"What?" He had given me this innocent look like he really had no clue as to what he'd just said.

I had just shrugged my shoulders and blew it off. "Nuthin." For all I knew Sammy was finally coming around to my view of education.

I'd later regret that non-chalance as it was the point in which I truly think I had started loosing my little brother.

**TBC…**

Much more to come… I'll try and keep updating this regualar- regularil- regulerly… often.

**Cherrystone**: _cracked me up with the hamburger helper comment. Thank you for taking interest!_

**Geminigrl11**: _Well, if you're not interested then I guess maybe I SHOULD just forget posting the rest. …yeah I don't know why I even attempted passing that one off. This thing is getting posted dangit!! It took too many freakin hours to write. YEAH! So glad to see you joining read! happy sigh You make me laugh. And since you requested…here is chapt 2._

**Rozzy07**: _snicker_…_You said ginormous… that's funny._

**Carikube**: _my dearest (and only) Australian friend… I am so happy to hear from you girl! I am ashamed to admit though, I have done you a grave injustice!! Blood on the Tracks? So freakin awesome!! Seriously. I used to be a huge Trekkie (shut-up) and when I heard from Mr. Phil you had written an Supernatural story that somehow incorporated the transporter… I went nuts! But back to me being a bad ffn friend; I didn't submit one, not a single ONE review. And I absolutely LOVED that story! And in my shame I decided to try and make up for my lack of reviews by making a trailer vid for your story. I'm still working on it and have scrapped the first couple attempts because they totally sucked… BUT, I'm really going to try very hard to get it finished! Cuz you and your story totally deserve it! Much love gurl!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

Note: You are FREE from notes today! Celebrate your freeness… drink many margarita's, frolic through a field full of prairie dogs… and feast on many small cakes smothered in butter cream frosting. …I have my fantasies, you have yours. (j/k… sort of.)

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 3**

Friday passed with pretty much no leads from our intense library search. I'll never forget Dad actually shoving a book away from him and growling… my dad, growling like bear. Just another one of those memories I've kept to myself; I should really start sharing some of those with Sammy. Anyways, so like I said; pretty much another worthless day of research. Dad had announced when we got back home that we'd try another go at a stakeout. And since it had been Friday, Sammy could come.

So two hours later there I was, driving to pick up my little brother from the Mudders Club. (ha ha) To my surprise, Jacen came waltzing out the door with him. They were laughing about something stupid no doubt. I had half expected Jacen to hop in the car, but at the curb he patted Sammy on the back and then threw a wave at me before running off to his own car. Sam climbed in next to me and set a big box down in between us. "What's in there?"

Sam had sighed as if it had been a long day and slouched in his seat with a grin on his face. "It's Ryan's last project."

"Ryan?"

"Filche?" Sam had given me that look as if I should know what he's talking about. And of course, it clicked a few seconds later.

"Right, right- dead guy. His last project?"

Sam then starts opening the box as if he's revealing this great prize, and I'll admit I kind of fell into the moment and was feeling a little eager to see it myself. So as carefully as he could he pulled out this… _fugly _lookin lump of clay which I'm sure would probably be viewed as an intricate piece of art had it been anyone else. But just looking at it I could tell there was no real use for the thing other than for looks; and in my book that makes it extra baggage.

Sam on the other hand… Sam was running his hands over it and grinning at it like it was last weeks date. "Seriously," I interjected; Sam's gaze on that thing had been just plain disturbing, "what the hell is that?"

"I told you, it was Ryan Filche's last project he made before he died. Our teacher showed it to me last week and told me today I could take it home for a few days if I wanted."

"And?"

"And there are two things Ryan Filche cared about in life; his room, and art." And again, Sam started running his fingers over it. "He fires this sculpture and then that same night he just happens to disappear without a trace? It's a start if anything."

"Oh it's _somethin_. In fact I can come up with plenty of colorful words to describe it if you'd like."

"Shut up and drive Dean."

Yeah I still hear that phrase a lot. At least some things never change. The other thing that didn't change was our luck for the day. That night's stakeout from a safe distance _way_ down the road produced zilch. Dad's not real fond of zilch either. I at least had Sam there to keep me somewhat entertained; although he'd pretty much sat in the back seat the entire time staring out his window at nothing. Granted, we had stared out our window too from the front seat, but we were at least staring at the tree and surrounding area; Sammy just stared at nothing, tucked into the corner between the door and the seat. Again, I had tossed it off to the hormones and dramas of a sixteen year old. Which made for a long uneventful night.

The rest of the weekend consisted of me and Dad doing some morgue visits for medical records on the lightning victims while Sam did his own bit of research on the sculpture which looked like an elongated egg with long strips of its shell and innards missing. Dad had given me the day off Sunday since he was simply going to be at the library with Sam all day, each looking into their own thing. So when the doorbell had rang I was surprised to say the least. Surprised and armed.

And then I opened the door and realized it was just Jacen. Then again, what the hell was he doing at our house? Sam would've remembered if they had a study or project time scheduled. I guess he had realized by my expression exactly what I was thinking.

"I was just wondering if Sam was busy. Thought maybe we could go do something?"

"Like what?"

Jacen had apparently taken my sly smirk a little too seriously though and the blood drained from his face. "Oh, I don't- I mean- just to see a movie or something like that. I don't know; I was bored. If he's not here though-"

I would've busted out laughing at how fast the kid was stuttering out that mess of words if my conscience hadn't of kicked in and reminded me that this was the first friend Sam had ever really 'brought home' so to speak. I know, I know; he had told me they were paired together for a class project and all; but it was obvious they'd had a developing friendship. So instead I took pity on him. "He's at the library. Probably won't be home for at least a few hours… and that's only if Dad can tear him away from all the pretty books."

Jacen had laughed at my joke which only served to endear him to me even more. He didn't laugh like Sammy though; the kinda cute, high pitch thing Sam did that just makes everyone around him want to join in. No, Jacen's laugh was a little deeper. I still to this day have no idea why I felt the need to differentiate Jacen and Sam all the time as if I needed to reassure myself that Sammy was special and no one was quite like my little brother. Pretty stupid if you ask me, but what can I say when you spend half your life in a car driving across country you learn to do a lot of meaningless thinking.

Anyways, Jacen had given me a disappointed smile. "Okay, well thanks anyways." And he had almost been out of the door before he suddenly turned back. "Oh, do you think you could give him my number? Maybe if he wants to hang out he could call me?"

"Sure." Harmless enough right? And so as Sam's climbing into bed that night I toss him the little sheet of paper the Jacen had written his number on and tell him his boyfriend wants to hang out sometime. Sammy then surprised me by giving me the finger and then ignoring me the rest of the night which wasn't much since we had been going to bed anyways. I've since learned to read into those signs.

**TBC…**

I know it's short, but I'm cleaning up chapter 4 as we speak… well, as I writ- …as you read.

**Faye Dartmouth**: _you're so cute! And entirely too nice. I'm glad you like the cuteness factor, enjoy it while it lasts… cuz it wont for much longer hint hint_

**Carikube**: _I'm gonna start using the word 'GUH' more often. It just has so much… character. I am so excited about tonights episode!! Can I just say that Born Under a Bad Sign is one of my FAVORITE eps now!! Jared did an above and beyond performance in that! content sigh_

**Sasha2002**: _Thanks girl. I think I'm just my own worst critic, so until I know other people like it, I don't like it. Kinda stupid I know._

**Rakshasa666I'm evil**_Okay, first off… I'm shortening your name to Rakshasa. I have a bad enough memory as it is ;) Secondly… while you're roasting in Aussie country, it's a lovely 2 degrees farenheit here in St. Louis, Missouri. Oddly enough though – I LOVE IT!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

Authors Note: Okay, some of ya'll have been questioning the upcoming problems the Winchesters will be facing… just a reminder warning – this IS probably considered a dark fiction, and there might be some uncomfortable issues layed out later. :) Just a friendly reminder.

**Chapter 4**

The rest of the week mainly consisted of Dad and I interviewing and talking to the surviving family of the lightning victims. Sam continued his own side investigation in between his school work and goofing off with his new best buddy. Jacen had started coming over practically every night; you know- to "work on their project". Dean ain't no dummy. Sam was finally finding companionship in someone else other than his family. …okay so maybe mostly other than me. Because let's face it, Dad was never one to just sit down and goof around with or play mindless games. And I'd never admit it out loud, but there might have been the slightest, minute, barely even legit molecule of jealousy in my bones every time Jacen would make an appearance.

Sam had even gone so far as to start calling him Jace… JACE! I remember distinctly grumbling something about the two of them getting a room the first time Sam had called him that. And you know, for all my jokes that I pulled those couple of weeks that Sammy's little friend was around… I never imagined just how close to home I was actually hitting.

I'd just like to go ahead and make it perfectly clear to any idiot out there that my brother has never been confused with his personal preference when it comes to gender. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that whole political infarction… just that we're Winchesters. And Winchester men like women. Plain and simple. Now if Sammy had come to me before this whole fiasco and told me he liked men, well… I would've freaked out at first of course- but being the amazing older brother I am, I would've come around eventually. But he didn't. There was never any question that we Winchesters like women, and in my case I love women.

So yeah, Sam and Jacen spent the next weekend together and big brother was starting to feel just a little left out. Not to mention that the times Sammy wasn't either at school or with Jacen, he was locked in _our _bedroom. Now normally Dad would have had Sam staying up late working with us on our case- but since he had apparently shown initiative and was investigating Filche's death, Dad let him off the hook.

Looking back, there were plenty of signs being thrown in my face that something just wasn't right, but apparently they weren't enough. So fate decided to slap me upside the head with something I couldn't ignore. It was Tuesday night and Jacen had once again graced us with his presence. Him and Sam were celebrating a perfect grade plus extra bonus points on their project which apparently made everyone else's projects look like grade school material.

So that night after dinner I was sitting in the living room with them (Dad excused himself to do some work… lucky bastard); they were celebrating; and proceeded to describe how the entire presentation went down. I've never admitted it, but it was actually pretty entertaining to hear them recant it; mostly I liked the part where Chris Daunton, the popular, rich jackass of the school, apparently was made to look a fool when Sam called him out in class over some misinformation on the idiots project.

That's my Sammy, the humble little genius that he is. And from the looks of it, Jace's little genius as well. I don't often let facial expressions slip; you have to be pretty good at guarding them in our line of work; but I distinctly remember a frown forming on my face as I had just casually glanced at Jacen who was sitting next to Sam on the couch. Sam was still going on about the stupid project and I was watching Jacen watch Sam.

It wasn't that he had been staring at Sam… it was the way he was staring at him. His head had been half turned toward Sam, a big, easy smile on his face, and most importantly the eyes; because the eyes always give the game away. Jacen's eyes had a sparkle to them as he watched my little brother; filled with happiness, love, humor, respect yada yada yada… and yearning. First off- gross… it's my kid brother. Secondly- _what the hell_?

And then the little bastard went and put his arm around Sam's back! …alright so maybe he just rested his arm on the couch which happened to be right behind Sam. But I know what I saw; the laugh at just the right moment, a slight shift and then the casual placement of the arm- all in one smooth move as if it were the most normal thing in the world. I should know; I invented that move!

And what's even worse was that Sam had been completely oblivious to it; at least that's what I had thought at the time. But that was the moment fate slapped me in the face and told me to wake the hell up. Rude awakening if you ask me. Let no one tell you that Dean Winchester isn't a man of action.

"Well this has been a fun little powwow, but I think it's time for you saplings to get to bed."

In foresight, it probably wasn't the best thing I could've said; Sammy hates anything that reminds him that he's still just a kid. Sapling was one thing… but telling him he had a bed time was pretty much a big no-no. In fact it was pretty demeaning and I even knew that the second it escaped my lips; but at that point I would've sang the National Anthem if it would've gotten Jacen's arm off from behind my little brother. However, as predicted, Sammy bristled in the quiet, almost non-existent way that he does.

"What?"

Let it also be known that Dean Winchester has no problem lying either if it's in my brother's best interest. "We've got a long day tomorrow Sam; Dad's got plans for us tomorrow night and it will probably run late."

Jacen seemed to pick up on the silent tension and communication and realized it was time for him to make his exit; thank God. "It's okay; I need to get home anyways."

Sam had then looked at Jacen with those damned doe eyes he gets and Jacen looked like his heart was ready to explode. "Sorry Jace."

So was I; because _Jace_ took that apology as an invitation to put his hand on Sammy's arm and squeeze it as if it could emphatically make it all better. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow in class." Yeah, and then he turned to _me_. "Thanks for letting me invade your house again."

"It's an apartment." I had wisely informed him. And that was that. There might have been some serious recriminations on Sammy's part as to my _behavior_ or something like that but I was completely justified.

I really should have sat Sam down at that point and done what he loves most, talk about it. Talk about why I was being such a jack ass. Talk about what was really bothering me. …talk about why I was starting to worry about my little brother. But no, instead some moronic voice in my head reminded me that Sam was a Winchester, which meant he could handle any kind of funny business. And he can… he could… when he was in full control of his facilities.

Instead we went to bed that night on a strict no-speaking grounds.

**TBC…**

I figured since these are such short chapters I really don't have an excuse for not posting every other day. Thank you for the continual reviews! They make me happy!


	5. Chapter 5

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

Note: Here's a bit longer chapter. Thank you guys for sticking with me and for all the reviews!

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 5**

Wednesday happened relatively without a scratch. Dad and I went back to the tree that morning to try and weaken whatever magical power was in it by watering it… with lamb's blood. See, back in the day people used lambs blood as kind of a price to pay for penance and all that crap. They'd put it on their doorways and stuff; pretty gross if you ask me. But anyways, lambs blood is kind of a contraposition (yeah Sammy's not the only one that knows a few big words) to evil spells and such… cancels them out.

…it was worth a shot right? So Dad and I were out in the field pouring lambs blood all over the tree's roots and trunk. I smelled like a putrid, fried dog by the time we got home that afternoon. I took a quick shower and got ready to go pick Sammy up from school. When I got there the place was like a ghost town. There were hardly any cars there and it was only two hours after school had let out. So I parked my baby and marched myself inside looking for whatever classroom the Mudder's met in. Whoever had designed that building must've been schizophrenic because the hallways were a maze.

I finally found my way to a hallway tucked neatly near the back where there was a light still on in a classroom. The door was half open so I stuck my head in and knocked. A lovely work of art turned to me from the back of the room where she was fiddling with some cabinets. I introduced myself and asked if that was the room the Mudder's met in.

"Yes, are you looking for a particular student?"

"Sam Winchester." And then her eyes lit up, as if I'd just told her George Clooney was about to walk through the door. "I'm his brother," I had said just to make sure that connection was made with Sam's hot teacher… you never know.

"Oh, I've been trying to get a hold of your father today."

"Oh, yeah his cell phone kind of went bezerk today." Yeah, bezerk as in covered in lamb's blood. My fault really, but we'll leave that story for another time.

"I see… well I just wanted to talk with him about Sam."

"What about him?" I asked with my game face on; because anyone in authority that wanted to_ talk_ about Sam usually meant trouble.

"His future."

I don't know why, but I had actually laughed a little at that. I think maybe at that time I was still under the impression that Sam would be a hunter like dad and me; join in the family business full time after he graduated. And in all truthfulness I think Sam actually would have, had the next few days not occurred. But like I said, at that point I was still clueless. "His future?"

She had nodded lookin all ready to lay out her grand scheme of how Sammy needed to spend the next ten years of his life. "I don't know if you know this but… Sam's a genius."

I knew that. "Yeah I know, we always make sure his report card is taped to the refrigerator nice and high for all to see." She might have been a hot teacher, but she had no sense of humor.

"Actually I don't mean book-wise… I'm talking about his art."

"His art." I don't remember ever sounding flatter than that moment. I think she was lucky I didn't bust out laughing in her face right then and there.

But once again she gave me that enthusiastic nod. "Sam's sculpting abilities are by far the best I've ever seen out of a student. In fact, I would go so far as to say he's got talent that rivals some of the best modern day sculpturer's I've seen."

I was pretty baffled at that point. I mean, like I said earlier- Sam's just not an artist so I thought it would be pretty important for me to just clarify what she was saying. "You think Sam's got talent… in sculpting."

"Yes."

"Sam Winchester."

"An unprecedented amount of talent. I mean there's only one other individual I would even dare to compare him to but that's kind of a lost cause."

"And why is that?"

She got this sad look on her face then as if her kitten had run away; because she had definitely been a cat lady in the making. "The other individual was another student of mine, but he died a few weeks ago."

Yup, that was a definite cause for pause. "That's too bad. What uh- what was his name?"

"Ryan Filche."

"No kiddin."

"You know him?"

"No I um, I remember seeing his name in the paper or something though."

"Yeah, he was a good student. Very quiet." And then she had shifted onto her other hip and got that curious look on her face. "It's kind of weird though you know- when Sam first joined the Mudders he really… well… I think maybe he was just nervous or hadn't found his inner chi." And yes, the woman actually said 'chi'. I should have gotten an Academy Award for not falling to the floor in laughter. "Because the pieces he worked on were… well- something I'd see from a first grader." Oh God… I had visions of play doe running through my head. "And then last Wednesday he asked to see some of Ryan's old work and it was like a transformation took place." Transformation indeed. "I think he found inspiration in Ryan's work because after that he was confident and diligent in his work as if he knew exactly what he was doing. I don't mean to sound morbid or anything but his pieces reflected Ryan's spirit almost perfectly. It's actually very inspiring to know his chi will live on through Sam."

Yup, definitely a good reason for me to start panicking. "I don't suppose you've got any of his _pieces_ here do you?"

"Sams? Sure." Then she strolled over to another cabinet, unlocked it and opened both doors. There had been about six different shelves with different pieces placed carefully on each. I waited then for her to pull Sam's out but she just stood there.

"Which one?" I asked helpfully.

And then she gave me that quirky look and said, "All of them."

"What?"

"These are all Sam's."

Okay, not what I had wanted hear. "But Sam just joined the club a week ago."

"Yes, but he comes here during his lunch break and in the mornings too. And he doesn't doddle or mess around. He's very focused and knows exactly what he wants to create and how to go about doing it. Like I said, very inspiring to watch."

"Yeah." So I kindly said adios to the woman and started searching the hallways again for my absent sibling. I was mad; actually I was worried, but worried tends to transform into anger somewhere in the Winchester genes. So when I had flung the school's front doors open it had been out of worried anger- I really hadn't meant to knock my brother flat on his back. They really should have had bigger windows in those stupid doors. Poor kid, I'd gotten him right in forehead. It could've been worse though… it could've been his nose or something. And that just would've been a bloody mess.

So now on top of feeling worried and pissed off, I was feeling a little guilty. Actually a lot guilty; Sam hadn't done anything worthy of a head butt with a door. Apparently he'd stayed a few minutes late to try and finish up a project, gone to the bathroom, came out, saw my car was here and had been looking for me ever since. It wasn't like it was a life-threatening injury or anything; but he'd definitely had a headache for a couple hours and a lovely bruise that turned into a black eye.

If it hadn't been for that stupid door incident I would've started some serious questioning about his new art habits and Ryan Filche's _chi_. As it was, Sam was now equally pissed, hurting and still a little worked up over my _behavior _the night before. So I'd turned the music down and let him have his peace for the drive home. Which had given me time to come up with a more delicate approach to Sammy's odd behavior. I didn't exactly come up with much though because some huge, dark looking clouds had rolled in and were lookin ready to do some serious damage. I'd spent half the ride praying for no hail.

So we got home, I helped Da vinci into his bedroom and then Dad came barreling in letting me know-

"We have to go right now Dean, get your stuff to-." Dad's look of confusion then at Sam's ill pallor and quickly blackening eye while lying on his bed was almost laughable. "What the hell happened to you?" He really does love us. Like I said, Winchester worry equals anger.

"We kind of ran into one another." I had informed.

"What?"

"I'll tell you later. What's goin on?"

"There's a huge electrical storm headed our way."

"You think the tree's gonna attract some of it?" I am good at what I do, not bragging; just fact.

"Possibly. Better safe than sorry." And so we left Sammy in his room to sleep off the headache while we went and sat in Dad's truck for the next three hours watching the storm wreak havoc on Seattle. Completely boring. Until I decided it was time for me to fill Dad in on what was going on with his youngest son. I left out the whole Jacen thing… that was definitely not a Dad issue. Sam would have killed me, like full on ice-pick-in-the-eye killed me if I'd told Dad that I thought Jacen was a little infatuated with his new buddy. So I left that issue for a Dean and Sammy night that consisted of pizza and beer (root beer for Sam) and about four hours of awkward talk time. And don't forget the restraints I'd need to keep him from leaving the room in a huffing ball of anger and embarrassment. …sixteen year olds.

"You think Sammy's spending too much time on the Filche case?" Okay so maybe I hadn't explained it as well I'd thought.

"Not exactly."

Dad did one of his classic pauses then, ready to give away the plot. "You think Ryan's spirit is somehow affecting Sam."

"More like that. I mean come on Dad, the last time Sam showed any kind of skill with sculpting was when he nearly chowed down that entire tub of play doe you bought him when he was four."

"And you said he brought home Filche's last project?"

"Yeah, real fragile looking thing. Ugly as hell, but obviously not made by an amateurs hand."

Dad had looked out his window then, watching the storm suddenly start to let up some; the lightening had actually stopped an hour earlier. "Alright then let's head home and have a talk with your brother."

Dad started the car and we drove out of the field toward the road; the possessed tree mocking us as we left; failures once more. I still hate that tree.

**TBC…**

** Uh-oh… here comes trouble ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

Note: AAHH!! Only four more chapters to go!! …why am**_ I_** getting excited?? By the way – does anyone know where I can post a challenge? I've got a great idea for a story that I'd love to see someone or a few someone's take on. …just curious :) Enjoy!

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 6**

You know, I've never really been one to jump the bandwagon on the whole spiritual connection or surreal brotherly bond type deal, but if there's one thing I've learned over the years it's not to discount it either. Because the second I had walked through our front door I knew something was wrong. And Dad had felt it too because he pulled up short after following me inside and I suddenly heard the click of Dad's safety switching over.

"Dean, check on your brother."

That was all I had needed. I kept my back to the wall as I quietly slid up the stair wall and down the side hallway towards our room. The door had been opened just a crack and light was escaping from inside. I peeked in to make sure there were no unwanted guests and then opened the door fully to find there was actually no one at all. Sam's bed was empty. Nothing had really been out of place so I left to find Dad; see if maybe Sam was in the living room or kitchen with him. But at Dad's questioning glance when I walked into the kitchen, I knew Sam wasn't going to be found in the apartment. I let Dad know Sammy wasn't in our room.

"He knows better than to just leave without telling us."

"I don't think he's exactly firing on all cylinders Dad."

"Alright, you said he brought home the last project Filche worked on?"

Good ole' Dad; always on the ball. I grabbed the box Sam had brought the sculpture home in and took it back into the kitchen and set it on the table. Dad flipped the lid off, grabbed a rag and pulled the thing out with the rag, setting it on the table. It was a bit of an anti-climatic moment if you ask me; here we were thinking we might just stumble onto the answer… and there we were, still staring at it five minutes later.

"You ever seen anything like this before?"

"No sir."

"What the hell is it supposed to be?"

Dad had sounded about as mystified as I had the first time I'd laid eyes upon it.

"I don't know; Sammy was going to do some research on it."

"Any clue where that's at?"

Apparently Lady Luck didn't hate me as much as I'd thought, because at the bottom of the box was a manila folder with papers and notes of Sam's research. I pulled them out and Dad and I started rifling through them. There had been several copies of pictures from old books of drawings from Eastern Indian art. Real ancient lookin stuff from the brief descriptions beneath them.

"Here we go." One picture had a bunch of scribbled writing along the edges, obviously Sam's; and fortunately for Sam, I can translate chicken shit. Dad had stopped shuffling through the papers to listen. "Looks like this was an old symbol or something in Eastern Indian lore… called a_ Pariah_, which means 'outcast'. Apparently they used to tattoo this symbol on certain individuals arms that society had deemed unworthy… nothing to offer."

"Pariah…" Dad had said it in that way that you know they know something, but they just can't quite remember what.

"Yeah, get this; apparently a Pariah can be inducted back into society if they, 'A': bring some considerable gift of worth to the village or 'B': they are joined with someone who _is_ deemed worthy of society." God I hate cultural history; it never fails to remind me just how screwed up we all are sometimes.

"Wait a second." I remember glancing at Dad then and seeing him kicking himself… metaphorically speaking of course. He'd then risen from the table and went into his bedroom, coming out a few seconds later carrying a thick book. "Caleb gave me this a few years ago; said he'd found it in some backwater bookshop or something." Dad laid the book on the table then and started flipping through the pages. "There was something in here… here." He'd rammed his finger on a certain page and turned the book towards me.

First thing I noticed was the picture in the middle of a long paragraph; it was a drawing of a man dressed in fancy Indian clothing and a crowd of people in a state of adoration surrounding him. Behind the guy was a shadowed figure, obviously the Pariah, in the same position as the man; as if it was directing the man's actions. The text had looked like it basically went over everything Sammy had figured out only in more detail. "Dad, it says here these things don't possess in the same way normal spirits do. They actually meld into the victims psyche or soul." That is a very bad thing by the way.

"So no exorcism."

"Yeah… but it doesn't say how to get rid of it."

"What _does_ it say?" Dad then started shuffling through Sammy's papers again. I skimmed over the information the way my Sammy taught me to when he was in sixth grade and listed off the facts.

"Well it looks like these things are pretty rare… hasn't been a recorded Pariah for centuries… there's really no way to even prove their existence except when you're killing it- _great_… when someone was actually thought to have been possessed by one, they'd find the outcast's body, cut the tattoo from their arm and then offer it as a gift to Shimot, the god of _white light_."

Looking back, it's pretty damn obvious, but at the time I was just so friggin caught up in what the hell was goin on with my kid brother that I failed to see the connection.

Now Dad and I understood exactly what that meant; but for those of you who aren't hunters let me make it simple. Person deemed an outcast and marked with the Pariah _symbol_ dies -- then becoming the _spiritual manifestation_ of the Pariah. Pariah then infects a living host and begins melding with it on a deep level- the host's feelings, inner soul and shit like that. Pretty much the two become one. Now the Pariah still has a level of control it can assert on the host, like a normal possession- but they never have complete control. They don't need it; not when all their thoughts and feelings are mixed in with the hosts… kinda like brainwashing. Pariah's live through the life of their host; it's their way of survival. They're aware and intelligent as if they were still alive as opposed to the pure negative bitchiness like your typical spiritual possession. When that host dies, they move on.

"Dad, it says here the evil Indian god Mog was the direct enemy of Shimot. Mog saw potential in the pariah outcasts and gave power to the symbol. Shimot of course then hated the Pariah's and waged war; making it his personal agenda to hunt them down and do away with every last one of them. For those that are actually successful in removing a Pariah spirit, the host is never the same." Major point here: the whole mind meld thing on the host's soul doesn't just go away. And that's why I knew we had to find Sammy before he did something he'd never normally do.

Dad dug his fingers into his eyes, an obvious sign of frustration for him; you know, other than his usual yelling. "Okay, so no exorcism."

I had started worrying my pen on the table, a nice little Def Leopard tune tapped out in perfect synchrony. "Burn the bones?"

"Won't do any good." Dad closed the book in front of him. "Filche's spirit isn't attached to its body anymore."

"Well what about this Shimot dude?" I remember my voice being an even cross between whiney and pissed. "I mean if he's got some… blood vengeance thing goin on with the Pariah's then where the hell is he? Why isn't he zapping this one back to hell, or wherever they go?"

"Alright well first things first," Dad had said in that calming manner of his, "we gotta find your brother. Any ideas where he'd go?"

I had a great moment of inspiration then. "Or maybe where Ryan Filche would go?"

Dad had shifted in his seat then; approval of my line of thinking. I started rubbing my hands together to work out my nervous energy. "Uh, Sam said Filche only cared about two things in life; sittin around in his room doin God knows what… and his sculpting."

"The school?" Dad confirmed as he grabbed his jacket from behind his chair.

"I think it's our best bet."

"Bring that thing with us," Dad had nodded toward Ryan Filche's final legacy. "I have a feeling we'll need it."

I then threw on my own jacket dumped the files and books back into the box, carefully dropping the sculpture in last and followed my father out of the apartment. "Chi my ass."

**TBC…**

Okay, time for a little shameless advertising here… if anyone else is really into Supernatural music vids – you need to check this one out!! It's from a friend on Youtube and it's the best one I've seen yet!! You can find it at _www _dot_ youtube _dot _com/watch?vbUE7pmB0Img_ Obviously you'll need to put actual periods where it says _dot_. It's AWESOME… trust me ;) Next chapter will hopefully be posted Thursday night! Ciao!


	7. Chapter 7

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

The Blah-Blah Section: It's going to be a hard couple of weeks until the new SN episodes start rolling out again… I don't know how we survive the summer. Oh wait – yes I do… FANFICTION TO THE RESCUE!! ………..waaaaaaaaay too much mountain dew for me tonight.

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 7**

So Dad and I committed crime number four-hundred and thirty seven for the Winchesters record book; we broke into a public school. And then I had to re-navigate us through the hallways of hell until we found the art classroom again. It was disappointingly empty; no Sam… which would turn into a reoccurring theme for me later in life. So I went ahead and showed Dad Sam's own private collection in the cabinet I saw earlier. I still remember to this day Dad's face when he saw the sculpture pieces filling the shelves; he didn't really react, but I could tell he was worried. The detail and care put into the delicate pieces screamed of long, grueling hours of torturous slicing and carving and wetting and whatever the hell else they do. But for Sam to have only been at it for two weeks with those kind of results meant he was dealing with some seriously extreme obsessive behavior.

"Kinda creepy huh?"

"What's that?" Dad carefully reached over the sculptures into the very back of the cabinet, pulling out an old, thick book covered in dried clay dust. He dropped the thing on one of the tables making an impressive cloud of dust that had tried to kill me by way of sinus infiltration. Still to this day, the sight of sculpture dust makes me gag. Dad flipped through some of the pages, noting old pictures of ancient history; though most of it looked like the mythological type of history.

"Whoa, wait a second." I had slapped my hand down on a certain page Dad was about to turn, leaning down a little closer to get a better look at the picture at the bottom. "I've seen this before."

Dad looked a little closer at where my finger was currently pointing at an obscure bush in the corner of the picture while my head whipped around, trying to remember. "Son-of-a-bitch." I took one large step toward the cabinet and yanked down a sculpture from the top shelf, setting it, non-too-lightly, on the table next to the book. It was almost an exact replica of the plant in the picture; looking like several dying flowers on four legs, twisting in and out of themselves; forming the intricate piece that had been sitting before me and Dad.

Dad eyed the cabinet real good before he started flipping through the pages again, determination clear in the old man's face. "Anything else in here look familiar?"

We both stopped on another page, finding yet another of Sam's inspirations for his sculptures in the book.

"Okay," Dad took a step back, one hand on his hip and one kneading his neck, "I think it's safe to say Filche was getting his ideas from ancient history and mythology pictures."

"Which means he probably didn't even realize what the Pariah symbol meant when he sculpted it."

Dad had started nodding and pacing, rolling his hand in a circle. "And seeing how Ryan Filche was practically a self-made outcast in and of itself, the power of the Pariah symbol came to life when he manifested it into something physical."

"So then what? It kills Ryan, turns his soul into a Pariah and waits for America's number one geek to come along so it can meld with him?"

"Dean." Dad never liked it when I referred to Sam as a geek. Fortunately he had more important things going through his head at that time. "Sam's notes said a Pariah can be inducted back into society by either joining with someone who is deemed worthy of society or brings some considerable gift of worth to the village."

"Well I can't imagine what kind of special gift Sam would be bringing to society, so maybe the Pariah sensed Sam was a hunter? …that he was helping out people, saving lives… sounds worthy enough doesn't it?"

"Maybe."

Knowing what I know now about Sam's visions and the Fire Demon, the distant look Dad had when he'd said that should have clued me in that Dad knew a lot more than he was letting on. If only I'd questioned it back then… things might have turned out differently. Either way, I didn't get a chance to question it because after he said that the door to the classroom suddenly swung open and there stood a startled Samuel Winchester. Being equally stunned, we all just kind of stood there staring at one another for a few moments.

I was the first to snap out of it. "Sam?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

That part still cracks me up. I mean, come on- it was like, eleven-thirty at night; what the hell were**_ we_** doing there?? The humor apparently skipped right over Dad's head though.

"We need to talk." Demands, demands.

Sam stood frozen for another moment before he slowly shook his head and took a wary step back. I could see it in his eyes and I knew; the kid was gonna run. "Sam-" Yup, right out the door. Dad and I both took after him, trailing down the hallways, weaving in and out of classrooms. Somehow we got split up and at one point Dad suddenly yelled my name. I had looked up to see Dad on the second floor looking down into the cafeteria area that I was currently running through.

"I lost him," I remember yelling up with a mixture of frustration and fear. More frustration than anything I think; I never liked school to begin with, and now, here I was frolicking through the hallways of academia in the middle of the night years after escaping the black hole. Anyways, so then we hear a distant sound of glass breaking, and damn if it wasn't a car window…

So I didn't even wait for Dad; I made a beeline for the school's back door and slammed through it just in time to see Sammy scrambling away from the broken passenger side window of Dad's car (which would later be _my_ precious baby); Filche's last project in hand.

"Sam!" And like the good brother I am, I took off after him across the parking lot. That was the first time I realized just how fast the little twerp could actually run; even before he grew into the long-legged giant he is today. Screw sculpting, we should've had Sam signed up for Track and Field. I chased him down the road through a bunch of residential yards, down a hill, and across a friggin highway. We were really lucky neither of us got pancaked that night. So then Dad suddenly shows up in the car, cutting Sam off so that he has to veer off to the left. By that point my lungs were screaming at me… remember, Seattle… November… cold? Yeah so that all equals a very unhappy Dean. Thank God Sam seemed to be slowing down slightly too.

I remember vaguely hearing Dad's car screech to a stop up ahead again as I followed Sam into familiar territory. It didn't hit me at first, but as I finally gained some good ground on my little brother I got a brief glimpse of a large tree we were headed toward. Sam suddenly came to a dead stop, he even took a few steps back- away from the dark, looming tree whose trunk was tainted red. Fortunately that gave me the few extra seconds I needed to close the distance between us before I barreled into his back, taking us both down to the ground. I probably should've been a little more careful; and I would've been too if I hadn't just run a friggin marathon across Seattle. Be as it may… we both hit the ground pretty hard and just laid there, stunned for a few moments.

But then Sam's, or Filche's instincts kicked in and suddenly we were having an all out kung fu fighting scene. It was awesome… well- it would've been if it hadn't been my little brother I was fighting.

Dad later told me he figured it all out when he'd climbed out of his car and saw where we were. He said he'd felt a shift in the atmosphere; like the air had suddenly become charged. So he ran our way, picked up Filche's legacy and threw it as hard as he could.

Sam had just pulled a particularly dirty move and turned just in time to see Ryan's precious sculpture smash into tiny shards against the base of the tree.

"NO!"

I used his moment of distracting to- well, to gather my wits about me first off, but then to pull Sam's arms behind his back and restrain him. And that was when the air charged to a whole new level. Enough that I noticed it and my heart dropped right into my stomach as realization hit. This wasn't any ole tree; this was the damned tree Dad and I had been slaving over the past two weeks. And the final puzzle piece fell into place; the tree wasn't attracting lighting… Shimot, the god of white light had come… and the tree was his chosen place of vengeance.

An arc of white lightning ripped from the sky with a terrifyingly loud crack that shook the ground. The light engulfed the tree and traveled straight down to the trunk where the broken sculpture lay still. The shards suddenly exploded into sparks as the lightning hit them.

That was the last I saw of the frightening display because every muscle in Sam's body suddenly seized up. His back arched, his legs kicked out and his head flung back, barely missing my face. This horrible sound seemed to be ripped from his throat and then suddenly he was dead weight. The suddenness of it all had us both falling to the ground; me more so under my little brother's completely limp body which I unsuccessfully tried to keep from falling. I managed to at least have him fall on top of me… somewhat of a cushion.

The next hour passed in kind of a blur. I vaguely remember Dad screaming our names, me trying to get Sammy to just wake the hell up, an ambulance, and then of course a hospital, and then my favorite- the world's most ergonomically-bitched chair from hell that seems to reside in every stinking hospital room nationwide.

So Dad and I were finally let into Sam's temporary room; the doctors wanted to hold him until he woke up so they could observe him. Apparently he was in quite a state of shock when they brought him in… I'm sorry, 'brought' probably isn't the best word… something more like running in screaming and stumbling around like a circus act gone bad.

It was a little embarrassing on my part, I'll admit.

Doctors told us he was extremely lucky blah blah blah; that the electrical current didn't seem to have an exit wound, or at least not that they could find. As if the lightning just dissipated when it hit Sam. And as that's not scientifically possible… they were all in a tizzy; asking all kinds of questions about where he was, what was he possibly holding onto, what was he wearing- which was a stupid ass question if you ask me. As if we stopped by the apartment to put him in a clean pair of clothes before bringing him to the hospital. And they went through how many years of schooling for that?

So Dad and I were informed doctors and nurses would be stopping by frequently to 'check up' on him. Good thing Sammy was unconscious, cuz he woulda had a fit knowing all these people were poking at him and lookin under the bed sheets. I remember thinking I couldn't wait to tell him all about it, but then… well- things got complicated.

**TBC…**

(Some of ya'll are crackin me up with your reviews!! Thank you for that… keep em coming! **Phx** – you are such a faithful author… always writing and uploading chapters and stories like crazy; so it's quite an honor for me to have so many stinkin reviews from you. Seriously. Thank you! …not that your reviews are stinky – just…shutting up.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Okay well I think the story alerts are down again… sucks. Well thanks for keeping an eye out for this story!! I feel the supernatural luv.

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 8**

"Sammy…… Saaaammmy. Come on dude, I know you're awake." Sammy had been getting pretty good at fakin sleep so sometimes it was a shot in the dark. And since he still wasn't responding, even when I started singing the stupid purple dinosaur song over and over, I had to assume he was still out cold. And of course since he was an _unusual case_, the doctors said they didn't know what to expect… more like they didn't want to say in case Sam did a 180 on them; liability or something. Whatever.

Truth be told, I hadn't really been ready for Sam to wake up yet anyways. Dad and I had no idea what kind of state he was gonna be in; what with the whole mind meld thing with Filche and all. I mean maybe that was all here-say anyways and Sam would wake up with no memory of any of it. I had hoped to God he would too. The kid had enough crazy things goin through his head without some other crazy dudes feelings moochin in on the territory.

Anyways, Dad went on clean-up duty which meant he had gone back to the school to make sure we didn't leave anything behind and to clean up the glass from his broken window. Not that broken glass is a terribly unusual thing to see in a parking lot; but still… Dad was always paranoid about those kind of things. And I was on _Sentry Duty_; which had been Dad's way of making mindless hours of sitting in the ergonomically-bitched chair from hell sound important. It had worked the first two times for me. Sam on the other hand didn't really catch on until he was well into his teens… innocent little pea pod that he was. Honestly, I think it's because of all the attention he'd get at the hospitals; nurses would always gush over him and bring him sodas and stuff. Brat.

Fortunately Dean had learned a thing or two in his time, so I decided to go find the lovely nurse I'd seen strolling the hallways earlier and have her direct me to the nearest coffee machine. I didn't find her, but Brunhilda was kind enough to show me the way; a little too kind if ya know what I mean. I filled two cups worth, both for me, and made my way back to the room.

I noticed two things when I stepped back into the room; one, my belief that hospital coffee was perpetually bad nationwide was proven once more; and two, Sam's bed had looked suspiciously empty. So I did a quick check of the bathroom – empty; and then made my way to the nurses desk.

"Hi, uh- did they take Sam somewhere to do more tests?"

"Sam?"

"Winchester- room 228?"

"Uh, let's see… nope, he's not scheduled for anything right now. He should be in his room, you can go visit him."

I remembered to try and put on my patient face. "Yeah, see I'm his brother and I just came from there and there's no one in there."

If it hadn't been for the stupid look the nurse gave me then, I would've thought she was actually cute. "You're sure you were in room 228?"

"I'm not an idiot!" Stupid people really bother me. "His shoes, his clothes and his jacket were all still sittin on the-" It was a classic moment of clarity; I'd stopped mid-sentence and with a coffee in each hand looked down at my own attire before rushing back to the room. The second I had stepped back into the room I knew. "Shit." My jacket was no longer hanging from the back of the ergonomically-bitched chair from hell… which meant a certain someone had snagged it. "I'm gonna kill him."

So I went to dig my phone out of my pocket; remembered it was in my jacket pocket and then grabbed Sam's jacket which was still lying on the dresser across the room. I pulled Sam's phone out of one of the pockets and made a run for the front hospital entrance while I dialed Dad.

"Sammy?"

"No, it's me."

"Hey, I'm on my way back. Any change in your brother?"

"Yeah that's why I called Dad, Sam's gone." I like to think I've gotten a little better at delivering information.

"What?!"

"No-no wait, not gone as in dead – sorry."

"Geeze Dean! I about damn near ran off the road!"

"I know, I'm sorry. Look, Sam's disappeared. He took off." And of course as I step outside the hospital doors it starts pouring.

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Did you check around the hospital?"

"Yeah Dad, look… I went to get some coffee and when I got back my jacket was missing and Sam was gone."

"Damn-it… alright so he probably left the grounds. Are you out front?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in five minutes. Did you try calling him?"

_Doh! _I never heard the end of that one. So without even answering, I hung up on Dad and started dialing _my_ phone. No answer. I then continued to dial my phone for the next five minutes; sometimes we have to go to great lengths to get Sam's attention… and annoyance goes a long way with the little geek.

Dad came peeling around the bend in the car, stopping just long enough for me to jump in and get the door closed before we made a straight shot for the apartment. That was a no-show, along with the school, the library, Filche's house, and even the tree; which we noticed, now that we weren't worrying over electrocution boy's vitals, was split down the middle with burnt edges and scorch marks. Shimot got to do his vengeance act on the right person – the Pariah - and took off, finally leaving a mark on the tree. I decided once we found Sammy I'd go back and take a chain saw to the damned thing… just in spite.

So an hour and a half later, there I was sitting in our living room with Dad and calling my phone for the thousandth time. Dad was totally on edge; which was a weird look on him. I for one was about ready to call the police and put out a missing persons report; and if you know anything about our family, you know involving police is pretty much always a very last resort. I chucked Sam's phone at the couch and sat down next to it when all I got was my voicemail again… I never thought I'd hate the sound of my own voice.

Dad continued to pace, looking ready to put in a call to the police himself. I had picked up the box of Sam's research and dumped everything on the coffee table. Who knows… maybe Sam would have left us some kind of clue… I'd been grasping at straws and I simply didn't care at that point. So I picked up Filche's book and started flipping through it and out falls this little piece of something from the back. I picked it up from the floor and turned it over. It was a picture.

I'll never forget the feeling in my stomach when I realized who was in the picture. I mean, I could literally feel the blood drain from my face. In my hand I was holding a picture of Ryan Filche with a huge smile on his face, and obviously the one taking the picture. And next to him, giving him a wet one on the cheek was our good friend, Jacen. "Oh shit."

"What?" Dad had looked ready to pounce, but I was still trying to wrap my brain around it all.

"I think I know where Sam is."

"Where?"

I then flipped the picture around for Dad to see. "Looks like Jacen knew Ryan… and they were a little more than just friends."

Dad had snatched the picture out of my hand and his eyes widened slightly. "Whose Jacen?"

"Sam's little study buddy? Remember?"

But Dad started shaking his head, still not getting it. "Okay, but why would-"

"_Dad_… Ryan Filche had two loves in his life right? His room and his sculpting. Only I think maybe they got it wrong… it wasn't his room he was in love with, it was who was in the room _with_ him. Filche was obviously in love with Jacen. And if Sammy's got Filche's thoughts and feelings roamin around in his head… I think… maybe-"

"Get in the car."

You know how some people say women can become feral when it comes to protecting their kids? I guarantee you it's nothing compared to the look our Dad had as he pulled his keys from his pocket and headed toward the car. He looked like a friggin grizzly bear whose cub had just been taken. I grabbed Sam's phone and rushed after him.

Neither of us knew which house Jacen lived on, I just remembered the street he mentioned one time; which meant without an address we'd be knocking on people's doors all night trying to find him. But from the look on Dad's face as he drove… I think that's exactly what he planned on doing. I figured while I waited I may as well give my phone another ring; you never know.

"Hello?"

Surprised was a bit of an understatement. "Sammy?"

"Uh, no. C-can I take a message?"

"Who the hell is this?" I might've growled when I said that.

"Dean?"

And that's when I recognized the tentative voice. "Jacen." Pretty sure I growled that part too. Dad looked ready to take the phone from my hand and put in his two cents worth.

"Oh thank God, Dean- man… I didn't know what to do."

"What are you talkin about? Where's Sam?" Demands, demands.

"He ran out of here a few minutes ago. … I don't what happened but he just… _freaked_ out on me."

And in all honesty, the kid really did sound pretty scared. "Where'd he go?"

"I don't know."

"Why'd he run?" I was pretty damned sure I already knew _why_.

"I…" He kind of broke off with this pitiful noise like he was ready to cry. "It's complicated."

"Complicated?!" I had yelled into the phone. "You listen to me you little son of a bitch, if you so much as laid a finger on my little brother I will haunt your every move and make your life a living hell DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Jacen had started openly crying at that point; gasping and strangled voice and all. He really had sounded miserable. "He came to _me_," he had whispered; almost like he was trying to convince himself. "He came to _me_."

**TBC…**

Don't forget to show your supernatural luv and review! …or don't. It's not that big a deal sniff …really, I'll be fine… does anybody have a kleenix?


	9. Chapter 9

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

_The Blah-Blah Section_: A certain author, of whom we will not name, suddenly realized she was two days late on a post… fortunately her readers luved her so much they forgave her and there was much rejoicing… right? Right? …sorry :( Anywho… here comes the darkness – hope ya'll still luv me after this.

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 9**

"How long?"

"A few minutes ago."

"Alright then he couldn't have gotten far."

"Maybe I should go on foot. Cover more ground."

"Dean, it's pourin buckets."

"Yeah, and Sammy's out in it." Didn't take much to convince Dad.

"Alright here." He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an extra flashlight, handing it to me. "Check-in in twenty."

"Will do." I had climbed out of the car and grabbed my trusty umbrella from beneath the seat and as well as my friendly five-inch in dagger, Gretchen that I stuck in the back of my pants. …what, you never know.

So Dad went left down the street and I went through some back yards. Nearly got speared on some stupid picket fence, oh- and I met one of the neighbors Dobermans. I introduced him to Gretchen, but he didn't seem all that impressed …I however had been very impressed with his teeth so I ran like hell. The little beast snagged my umbrella though. So fifteen minutes and twenty houses later I'm still comin up with nothing, I'm sopping wet, and worried as hell.

I turned down a back road and ended up on a side street with a gas station. Call it what you want, brotherly intuition or whatever, but something made me turn the corner to the back of building; away from all the lights and bustle. Sure enough, there was Sammy; kneeling in the mud facing an open stretch of land, completely drenched in his hospital scrub pants and a light blue t-shirt he obviously borrowed from Jacen; and what more- he was completely unmoving. I'm not proud of it, but I pretty much froze up. I mean… what was I supposed to do? What would I say?

Finally after just watching him for a few minutes I got a huge shiver, from the cold rain, and started to slowly make my way over to him. I kind of circled around so I came at him from the side… no use giving the kid a heart attack especially after his little episode mere hours ago. I finally got close enough that I could see him… and God did he look miserable. His eyes were closed and he just sat there, his breath coming out in small white puffs while streams of rain just poured down his face and clothes; his hair completely flattened to his head and his skin was the palest I'd ever seen. The black eye didn't help. I made sure my feet hit a few large puddles on my way over so he could hear me coming, but it wasn't until I was almost within ten feet of him that he actually reacted.

"Don't"

Sam's voice couldn't even have been considered a whisper it was so stinkin quiet compared to the slapping of rain on the ground; and his lips barely moved. He didn't even turn to me or open his eyes… just kept sitting there like he was waiting for the rain to fill up the back lot and drown him. I remember the scary thought that if we really were in a pool or something, Sam wouldn't even fight it… he'd just let go and sink. Well I sure as hell wasn't gonna let _that_ happen.

"Don't."

His voice at least hit a decibel point this time and surprisingly enough sounded even worse than the whispered plea that first escaped him. I'd never heard that tone of voice before in anyone, but I was smart enough to know you didn't mess with that kind of inflection. It was the most miserable thing I'd ever heard, standing only in comparison to possibly the moments after I dragged Sammy from his burning apartment a few years down the road. Funny how some of the most miserable memories in my life seem to revolve around a certain, dark-haired, little brother.

_Sometimes the good outweighs the bad_… mom told me that.

So I stopped again and just stood there in the bucket pouring rain, how very cliché and a quintessential chick flick moment. But none of that had mattered, because I had been scared out of my mind. Seriously; ready to piss my pants scared. I didn't know how to fight something like this. And since I was always the one to help Sam out in the past… this was just way out of my league and area of expertise. And what's even worse… I knew Dad was even less experienced than I was. Some idiot with a megaphone in my head kept screaming at me _you're gonna lose him you're gonna lose him you're gonna lose him_. And I didn't even know why! Well… I had a pretty damned good idea, but still.

"Sam." Good place to start right? Kinda wished my voice hadn't sounded so pinched though.

Sam didn't seem phased by it though; he just kept sittin there with his eyes closed, completely unaware of the freezing rain pounding at us as if we'd done it some grave injustice. Nah, Sammy had either been ignoring it or was just takin it… like he deserved it or something.

"Leave me alone."

You know, you would think someone screaming at you with spit flying out of their mouth and reaching decibels that cause your eardrums to shrink back in pain would be a little more frightening than the quietly still performance Sam had been giving me. …One would think.

"Not gonna happen."

"Dean… please."

And then his chin did this little quiver thing, and my stomach just lurched. Despite his warnings, or pleads, or whatever they were- I took those last few steps and knelt down in front of him, mirroring him. I kinda wished he'd had lashed out at me or something but he was still unnervingly quiet and stoic… like a shell of calm while freezing rain assaulted him externally and a tempest of unbearable emotions besieged at gale force internally. Sam's shells have never ceased to amaze me.

"I'm not going anywhere buddy," I had said, trying to match his quiet tone. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time; because God knows ordering Sam around or screaming at him has always worked so well in the past. So we're sitting there in the freezing rain and I'm trying to sound as compassionate as I remember mom being back when she was still putting band aids on my scrapes. I thought maybe it would work ya know? Bring Sam out of whatever hole he was currently allowing himself to be buried in. "This isn't your fault Sammy-"

"Don't… call me that." It was the first time he'd raised his voice since I'd found him, so maybe we were at least getting _somewhere_. If only he hadn't sounded so choked.

"Sam… Dad and I figured it out. You were on the right track- it was a _Pariah_. You got infected with it and it's been making you… do things-"

"No-"

"Sam." God; that was the hardest conversation I'd ever tried to have with my little brother. It had frustrated me to no end. I didn't get why he was fighting me on this; I was giving him a way out… a guilt free excuse as to why he was so drawn to his _friend_ and he was totally rejecting it; I mean he didn't even consider it. "These things… they infect like a poison man… polluting your head with its own wants and feelings." Sam's eyes had squeezed tighter closed and his breath hitched as he started shaking his drenched head, flat out refusing to hear what I had been saying. "Hey! Would you listen to me?!" I don't do well with stubborn, especially when I knew stubborn could effectively be my little brother's undoing at that point. "Ryan Filche was a Pariah Sam… and he and Jacen were lovers before he died-"

"No!"

"It's not your fault!!" I had been so mad… so freaking insanely mad. It just wasn't fair. Sammy never should have had to deal with something like that on his conscience… but why the hell wasn't he understanding he didn't have control of his actions? He, more than most, should know that when the supernatural are involved, normal rules of engagement just no longer apply.

Instead Sam let out this miserable little laugh followed by a tiny white cloud of cold air. "Just go away Dean." And just like that he was back to the quiet voice.

"Listen you stubborn son of a bitch," and I was back to growling, "whatever went on between you and Jacen was Ryan's doing. He pushed you-"

"He was already dead!!"

I can't remember if it was the fact that Sammy had finally looked up with those piercing black hole eyes of self-hate and actually _screamed_ at me that had silenced me and frozen my insides… or if it was what he'd actually said. "What?"

"I went to him…" Sam had tracks of tears joining the cold rain in their decent down his ruddy cheeks and he looked distinctly uncomfortable in his own skin… his fingers grasped so tightly in his lap like he was holding them back from tearing his flesh off. It took a hell of a lot of effort not to interrupt his hitching confession to reach out and grasp him, as if I could keep him from drowning. "_Me_…_ I_ did. …the Pariah was gone. After the hospital… _I_ went to Jacen's."

I had nodded carefully and tried to sound calming. "I talked to him."

If possible, Sam looked even more sickened at that thought. "Don't you get it?!"

"Sam-"

"I slept with him! …And it was _my_ choice!!" _Shit_. There are no words in any earthborn language that can be used to properly respond to something like that… especially when someone looks so completely broken and anguished like my brother had at that moment. "Some Winchester little Sammy turned out to be huh?" His voice had been dripping with so much bitterness and scorn… it still makes my insides churn. "Literally fucked up in every way now right?!"

…he was just …completely shattered. Right there, before my eyes.

"FUCK!!" He had finally just screamed into the night as if every torrential wave of misery, every gaping wound of self hatred, every smashing hammer of fear and rejection could be summed up and exorcised in that one, simple little word.

Something inside me broke right then along with my little brother. I slowly reached out one hand and tugged on the shoulder of my jacket hanging on the kid's trembling shoulders. He had resisted at first, stubborn to no end; trying to shrug me off and choking out these little _no's_ like he was filthy and didn't want to get my clean, hero suit soiled. I ignored his half-assed efforts though and pulled a little harder. Everyone knows Dean Winchester isn't a touchy-feely guy… but Sam had been in a very dark and dangerous state of mind at that moment. And it hurt to just look at him. So I pulled him forward and laid one arm across his back, the other hand rested on his head, and I let him break down on my shoulder; his hands fisting in my shirt.

We stayed like that for a while; and yeah, I couldn't feel my ass among many other important body parts anymore from the freezing rain… but Sammy had needed that. And from the hitching sobs wrenching from his chest it felt like he had needed it more than oxygen. He needed to know he was still Sam Winchester… my little brother, and John's youngest son. He needed that affirmation more than life itself. And the prince of darkness himself couldn't keep me from giving it.

I waited another minute until his sobs had lost the slight hysterical edge to them before speaking in a quiet but firm tone. "I'm gonna tell you something Sammy and I want you to listen to me you understand?" It had been really difficult to keep my pure anger at the injustice of the whole situation out of my voice. "Pariah's don't work like normal possessions. You can't just exorcise them and be done with them." He started to shake his head in denial, so I dug my fingers into his back and in his hair and shook him slightly. "Listen to me! …these things practically meld themselves with their hosts …they brainwash you to make you think like them." I loosened my grip a little at that point and just let my fingers stroke the drenched locks along the back of his neck; another little trick I learned from mom. "And when they die- they leave an… an imprint of themselves behind. Filche's thoughts and feelings got jumbled up with yours. And it's permanent… and I don't know what to say other than it's not your fault Sammy!" I remember sounding slightly pleading at that point _myself_. Sammy had needed to believe he could still be loved by me and Dad just as much as I needed him to believe what I was telling him.

So that was it; I mean- what more could I say? So I just continued to sit there and waited for him to respond. His choked voice finally broke through the downpour of rain; his words laced with wheezing from the cold air.

"I- …I needed to be with him. I just…" his head shook slightly and I could tell he was disgusted with himself. "Things were so out of control… I didn't- …I needed him… and he wanted me." I remember feeling his back muscles tighten up again beneath my hand. "But the whole time- I just…" His voice had started hitching again and you could practically hear him trying to swallow down the confused sobs. "I loved it and hated it at the same time. I mean… it made me physically sick because that's not me- I didn't _want_ that- I'd _never_ want that… but I did. …what the hell's wrong with me Dean?"

I pulled him closer and tried to rub some warmth if possible into his back. I'd been right; Filche's feelings messed with my brother's head and now he was feeling an unbearable weight of guilt for having done things he _thought_ he'd wanted to do. "We'll fix it little brother… I promise."

"How?" He didn't bother trying to cover up the hopelessness in his voice.

"Day by day." I made doubly sure he could hear the honest conviction in my words. "Day by day."

Sam's release of misery renewed again, only that time it was with less hysteria. I like to think I had something to do with that… that somewhere along the way I'd said the right thing and somehow made it minisculey better. It was a good feeling and one I haven't been so good at recreating since.

So I waited another ten minutes and then pulled Sam's wet phone from my soaked pocked and dialed Dad.

**TBC…**

So… who hates me?


	10. Chapter 10

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Well, I had some very eager readers who requested this chapter be posted tonight, and as I too am an avid and obsessed fanfiction reader… I'm more than a little willing to oblige them. …_translation:_ _when ya'll get excited, I get excited!!!_ So thank you for your reviews because they make my days all happy and gaga! …whatever that means. Okay, one more chapter to go after this :)

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Chapter 10**

So we took Sammy back to the hospital that morning to have him- _checked out_… just to make sure. The last thing the kid needed was some kind of STD on top of everything else. Dad had pretty much clammed up; he didn't ask questions. I gave him the barest account just so he had a good understanding of what went down and then he went real quiet. He helped me get Sam into the car and then kept a supportive hand on the kid's back or knee or shoulder the whole time we waited at the hospital. But he didn't really say anything. Who could blame him? I still don't have a clue as to what could've been said to make things better. Not that Sammy would've heard a word of it; he had practically shut down a few minutes before Dad got there. It had been really creepy; to have gone from a hysterical, emotional wreck to this hebetudinous – Sammy taught me that word – silent, emotionless animatron that just stared into nothing. He'd follow direct orders like, walk or sit or lay down… but other than that, he just zoned.

He'd checked out fine. Doctor said he'd probably be a little sore and gave us two prescriptions. One for pain and the other was an anti-depressant; apparently the doctor had assumed Sammy hadn't been completely consensual and that's why he was practically unresponsive. Now normally we don't fill out prescriptions unless their pain prescriptions and we really need them… just one more way for the authorities to track us. We pick and choose which drugs we really need; so I hadn't expected to fill the anti-depressant, but Dad made sure I did. He even gave me real cash to do it… like he felt he needed to contribute honestly to Sam's recovery… like he wanted to make sure everything that could be done to help repair this situation was being done.

We got home around seven in the morning so I took Captain Indifferent upstairs and put him to bed. Then I made a quick run to the local 'Mystic' shop and stocked up on a few odds and ends. Dad had left an hour or so later to go research some leads on the northern end of town and I finally got comfortable on the couch and took a much needed nap. Catherine Zeta Jones had just slid her hands beneath my jacket when a quiet knock sounded from the front door. People always interrupt me when dreams start getting good. So in my grumpy haze I remembered to slide my knife into the back of my jeans and then opened the door.

Shocked wouldn't quiet describe my expression when I opened the door. There on our front doorstep stood Jacen. I wanted to be furious… I _was_ furious; but I knew deep down the kid was just as much a victim to this whole messed up situation as Sam had been. And he really did look pretty miserable. His clothes were somewhat rumpled and his hair disheveled. His eyes and cheeks were slightly red, from hours of crying no doubt. He looked a little lost and scared to be standing there in front of me. Again, this whole escapade would've been a hell of lot less complicated if Jacen had never come into the picture – but it wasn't his fault. And I felt sorry for him. Not only had he lost his… _friend_ several weeks back, but now his new… _friend_, who reminded him a lot of Ryan for reasons he couldn't explain, had freaked out on him after they- _shared- _what was obviously something very special to him. They were only in their teens for cryin out loud!

So I stopped myself from slamming the door in his face and tried to keep my face expressionless. He shifted around on his feet for a moment, looking everywhere but at me.

"I uh… I thought you might want this." He held up my leather jacket as sort of a peace offering. I took it; checking the pocket to make sure my cell phone was safely tucked inside. I gave a small, sympathetic nod of thanks. He swallowed then and started awkwardly rubbing his hands on his jeans, sneaking small glances behind me and looking completely lost and miserable.

"You can't see him," I had said quietly. That just wasn't gonna happen.

He seemed to deflate slightly, but gave a small nod of understanding. He ran a hand over his messy hair and gave me this pleading, brokenhearted look. "Could you just… tell him I'm sorry?" A few tears slipped down his face. "I never meant to hurt him."

Again, I gave a small nod, knowing full well I wouldn't. At least not for a while… not until Sammy was ready to talk about it. But Jacen seemed to accept that. He awkwardly backed up and gave a small, pathetic little wave before turning around completely and walking away from the Winchester household.

I remember letting out a deep sigh before slowly and quietly closing the door and looking at the stairs behind me, trying to decide if I should go check on Sammy. I had decided against waking him up though, only to turn back toward the couch and find him already standing there at the front, living room window; staring blankly through the laced curtain at the retreating figure. I paused a moment, wondering if maybe he needed that… needed that understanding that it was over. When Jacen had finally disappeared from sight, I waited for Sam. Waited for him to say something, to move… react in some form. He didn't though. He just continued to stare through the old-lady curtains.

So I quietly and un-intrusively as I could, stood beside him; doing my own little bit of staring out the window.

"I hurt him."

"Not your fault." I did my best to match his quiet tone and yet still sound firm. This was something he needed to understand; and oddly enough, something I've been trying to drill into his head ever since. We didn't look at each other; just continued staring out the window like it was a completely different world just beyond that single pane of glass.

"A part of me wants to run after him." He'd said that somewhat hesitantly, as if what he said might risk the chance of exiling himself from us. I had expected this; Sam would never be alone in his head ever again. Ryan Filche's thoughts and feelings were forever imprinted on Sam's mind; integrated into his own. It was confusing as hell and not something I'd wish on anyone.

"And the other part?"

Sammy looked a little sick, swallowing something down. "The other part wants to run the other way… wants to know what the hell's wrong with me?" I kept expecting some tears to surface or some kind of emotion to present itself; instead I just got this stoic representation of Sam. A tired, emotionally abused and damaged Sam. "I can't do this Dean," he'd whispered.

"Yes you can." I'd never been so certain in my life and I'd made sure he could hear that certainty in my voice too. "Come here."

I lightly tugged on his shirt sleeve and he slowly followed me to the kitchen table. I sat him down and then grabbed one of the bags from my supply run from the counter and took the seat across from him. I remember watching him for a moment, trying to judge if I was doing the right thing or not. He watched me back; dull, hazel eyes masking the dark labyrinth of confusion.

My little brother had been damaged. Permanently so. All I could do was try and help put some of the pieces back into some form of semblance.

So I reached into the crumpled, paper bag and pulled out a small book. I had looked at it a moment, weighing it in my hand before laying it on the table and sliding it across to Sammy. He too stared at it a moment and then slowly fingered a corner of the hard-cover book. He lifted the corner to glance at the inner pages; they were blank.

Sam let the book fall closed again and then started fingering it again, like he couldn't quite figure out how he should feel about it. "What is it?"

"It's a journal."

I laugh at it now, but at that time nothing was funny; Sam's eyes flickered up to me with this blank expression… but nowadays would clearly read as – _you're dumb_.

"It's a diary."

I gave him a half-assed scowl and lightly smacked his hand away where he was fingering the clearly imprinted letters D-I-A-R-Y along the side binding. "It's the same thing… besides they didn't have anything that said _journal_ on it like Dad's. Just deal."

"Okay."

…Not exactly the response I was going for, so I thought maybe I would do a little more explaining. "The point is… I know your heads a mess right now; trying to figure out which thoughts are yours and which are Filche's. So…" I don't know why, but I was seriously scared of presenting my plan… I was totally in unknown territory, dangling myself out there vulnerably and seeing if Sam would take the bait. Because again… I don't do chick-flick stuff well; but this had been the best thing I could think of at the time. "Look Sam- I _know_ you… okay? I almost know you better than you know yourself. So…whenever you come across a thought or feeling you're not sure is yours or Filche's," I flipped the front cover open revealing the first blank page and tapped it, "just write it down… put it under my pillow… I'll read it and then let you know if it's yours or his." I'll never forget those seconds of waiting for Sammy's response… what if he thought it was stupid and totally called me out on it for being such a girl? "Completely off limits okay– we'll never bring it up except for in here." I had tapped the book again to make that point clear. The longer he just stared at me though with those wide hazel eyes unnerved me; to the point where I couldn't really help my mouth. "I'll even respond in complete sentences and use punctuation like you keep hounding me to do… what do you say huh?"

He just stared at me another moment and then this sheen of wetness started filling Sammy's wide-eyes and I knew I'd done the right thing. And it was the best feeling in the world. He was openly trying very hard at that point to keep his tears in check; pressing his lips together and swallowing hard, staring down at the journal. I gave a small nod of approval; and yeah, maybe I had to do a little swallowing down of a few emotions myself…what- I'm not _dead_. So I pulled a pen from my back pocket and held it out for him.

He kind of stared at it for a second, he stared a lot after the Pariah incident, before slowly reaching forward and accepting it. I pushed my chair back from the table and left him alone with his and Filche's thoughts. The next step was Sam's.

After that I went back into the living room, grabbed my cell phone from my jacket, called Dad and let him know we needed to move on from Washington. Get away.

Get Sam away.

Dad didn't even question it; he just said _okay_ and told me to start packing up our stuff. He said he'd be home in a couple hours and then we'd head southeast; maybe visit Father Jim. So we did. Sam didn't object either, but his feelings of leaving a certain someone behind made it into the journal. I wrote in all caps at the bottom of the journal entry - _NOT YOU_.

This was going to work.

It had been a start anyways.

And then a not more than a week after leaving Seattle he _shot up_. Went from a comfortable (for me anyways) 5'9" to an ungodly 6'4". Personal theory on that one? I think somewhere in the depths of Sam's crazy head he just couldn't handle being vulnerable in any fashion. And for some reason his mind figured as long as he was shorter than Jacen and half the rest of the male population, he was vulnerable. So in a matter of three weeks he grew five inches… which is just not natural. Dad and I had been a little worried; even took him to a doctor at one point. That and he filled out, muscle-wise; he started eating about as much as I do and he took his workout sessions way more seriously than he probably should have. He took every AP class he could get his grubby hands on at whatever school he was currently attending. At the time I had thought it was because he didn't want to be found vulnerable on the intellectual side either. The downside to his goal of becoming impenetrable was that his independence streak went from manageable to fanatical. He questioned everything and yet talked less. He'd argue like hell but never really _said_ anything. He kind of bottled things up which was just… not Sammy. Over the next couple years, he still wrote in the journal and would show it to me every once in a while when the confusion just got to be too much; but overall Sam had become a brooding, quiet, angry teenager who was desperately seeking approval and yet fighting to get away from that need at the same time.

Suffice to say, the Sam I met at Stanford was way different from the Sam that had left our apartment two years earlier under that stupid ultimatum. And I know I have a certain blond, blue-eyed beauty to thank for that. Jessica really broke Sammy free of his downward spiral. You could see it in the way Sam looked at her; like she was his saving grace… the angel that had pulled him from the drowning waters.

I owe her a lot.

And it's essentially why I'm writing this. So others will know just what kind of person she was and how special she was. She gave me back my brother… pulled him from his own personal fire and helped him get rid of his dark side. After everything that had happed to Sam those two weeks… Jessica Moore was the only person in the entire world who had been able to truly reach deep down inside him and bring back to the surface that which was wholly Sam. And as Sam is the most important thing in my life… that makes her a very special person in my book.

**TBC…**

( _tear_ - I'm a sucka for corny mush like this - sorry)


	11. Epilogue

**Winchester Apologetics**

By Maygin

Summary: "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else." –Madame Pomfrey. Young Winchesters story from Dean's POV.

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Holy crap guys… some of your reviews just totally rocked my world!! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!! That was AWESOME! I'm so freakin glad it turned out people enjoyed this one! As for this last chapter/epilogue… I didn't realize it was so short, so I apologize if I made it sound like there was a lot more to come. This is it. I hope you guys have had fun reading!!

Spoilers Ahead - For Born Under a Bad Sign

**Winchester Apologetics**

**Epilogue**

A lot of shit has happened the past few weeks. Sammy disappeared for an entire _week_ and then winds up he'd been possessed by that psycho-bitch, Meg. She used his body to kill other hunters and apparently to _test_ me… see how far I'd go to protect him; if I'd keep my promise and kill him. That wasn't all though.

I didn't realize it either until this morning when I walked into our hotel room after grabbing breakfast; Sam was in the shower. I noticed there was an faded looking book laying somewhat covered beneath my pillow next to my knife. I picked it up and realized it was the journal I'd given him all those years back after the Pariah incident. The same damn journal that I wasn't sure had really helped at all. But I had a sneaking suspicion so I flipped the book open to the last entry and noted the date – it was today's date. I sat down on the bed and started reading.

It looks like when Meg was exorcised from him, she'd pulled a lot of buried thoughts and emotions to the surface. The Pariah was gone… but those feelings and thoughts from Ryan's personality never disappeared; Sam just learned to recognize them and was able to bury them. But now, Meg had dug them up and scrambled them with Sam's own thoughts and feelings again. It's like we were back to square one. This time would be different though… this time I'm gonna pull a page from Jessica's book; I'm gonna _talk_ to Sam… hear him out, and offer some sincere comfort. No joking around when it comes to trying to differentiate your feelings from someone else's in your head.

I'm not losing Sammy again… and thank God, if the reappearance of the journal means anything… Sam doesn't _want_ to _be_ lost.

So I snagged a pen from the night dresser and started writing beneath Sam's latest entry of confused thoughts.

This time would be different.

**The End**

(I couldn't help but pull in BUABS to tag onto the end. Hope it complimented it in some way. Now what am I gonna do? Guess it's back to reading everyone else's fics until inspiration hits again ;) Thank you again SO STINKING MUCH for all the reviews! They really make it all worth it!)


End file.
